Events in the night
by Selenite
Summary: "Okay." Said Tony, turning the music on again, just somewhat quieter. "So. Have you come to drink my reserves, or… Uh – another defenestration? Quick and 100% refreshing?" -Avengers era; Tony/Loki; mild funny slashy stuff. Nothing serious, though.
1. Chapter 1

_**Hey guys! Now, how to explain this... Recently I've been consumed by the awesomeness of Tony/Loki fandom. It could have been recognized in the latest chappy of "Black Swan..." as well, I'm afraid. *sigh* I simply could not resist! And this is the result. **_

_**This may or may not evolve to a series of one or two-shots. Anywho! Thank you for stopping by and reading! Let's begin, mwhehe! **_

_**(You may also need to listen to a song. It's Black Sabbath's "I". Just type "black sabbath i" in the search engine of youtube and choose the vid by TheDEHUMANIZER95.)  
**_

_**Oh and I own nothing  
**_

* * *

_I am virgin  
I'm a whore_  
_Giving nothing_  
_The taker_  
_The maker of war_  
_I'll smash your face in_  
_But with a smile_  
_All together_  
_You'll never_  
_Be stronger than me_

_I - I - I_  
_Right here on my own_  
_But I still rock you_

_I - I - I_  
_Don't follow behind_  
_Just leave me on the outside…_

2:30am.

The lyrics of the Black Sabbath's song known so well were drilling a mine in Tony's pulsating temples. He did not bother with the lights as he made his way clumsily through the corridor leading from his bedroom. Well, there was a light at the end, right? Somewhere.

Accepting support from the walls, he continued defiantly his quest to the common room. The light was growing more and more intense as he approached. And finally, there was Tony Stark, standing in the wide doorway, thoroughly sleepy, his eyes squinting around the dimly lit space. The LCD was showing some indifferent news; the sound had been muted. An empty bottle of tequila had rolled over the edge of the counter and accompanied a few broken glasses on the ground. He looked to the side and found out his CD collection had been abused. Derr! Some of the albums lay open on the carpet, booklets waving frantically in the cool breeze coming from the window.

"Jarvis. The window."

Nothing.

Again. That could have meant two things – either Jarvis had gained self-awareness and finally decided to take his vengeance for all those long, unrewarded years; or it had been Loki. Which option was worse? Who knows… Let the Time tell, shall we?

When Tony finally managed to unglue himself from the doorframe, he ambled towards the window, closed it, and then slithered to the stereo. Oh yes, _Dehumanizer_. He scratched his temple, trying to remember putting a repeat on the Track 9. But suddenly he yanked at the sensation of a movement. Peeking over his shoulder, he eventually recognized the dark mass in the cushioned chair. Sitting twisted to the side, long legs over the armrest, was the feared failure of a Frost Giant. Clutched to his chest was a bottle of whiskey. Frowning deeply and scratching his head, Tony opened his mouth.

"Ah…" he sounded and turned the music off. Which action made one green eye swung open and glare.

"Hey, buddy." Not able to think of a better choice of words, Tony greeted casually.

The long-lashed, pale eyelid slid down in reply.

"Okay." Said Tony, looking elsewhere, then turning the music on again, just somewhat quieter. "So. Have you come to drink my reserves, or… Uh – another defenestration? Quick and 100% refreshing?"

Opening both eyes, Loki let out a sentimental, oh-those-precious-memories chuckle. "If you're in a need of refreshment, I'll be happy to help, Anthony."

"Oh. Good to know, thanks." The latter sighed painfully and fell, sprawling, on the couch across the small table.

"You're always welcome." Murmured Loki, knitting his delicate eyebrows together while viewing the lights through the bottle neck. Then he brought the jar to his thin lips and finished its content in a few deep gulps. Long sigh. "Another!" he demanded loudly, and reached out to stand the empty bottle on the glass surface of the table.

"No smashing?" Tony curled one brow.

Loki coughed. "Oh please. I'm not my bro-" Hiccup. "…anyway."

"You have a bro?" Tony asked, regretting the words just minutely.

"Sometimes." Loki breathed. "But if you insist-" he said, then seized the bottle and sent it flying against the wall. The shattering glass sprayed the room with the crackling sound and glitter. "Smash." Sounding not too satisfied, he added finally.

And the song started over again.

"Nice one." Slightly nonplussed and slightly apathetic, Tony acknowledged.

"Thanks." The trickster nodded, returning to his original sleeping position, exhaling deeply. "_Everything that I see is for me - Yes, I am giant - I'm a monster - Breaking windows - In houses - Buildings of glass…_" he went on, murmuring the lyrics.

Feeling the pain throbbing in his skull again, Tony let his chin sank down and closed his eyes. He had no idea what else to do, to be honest. So what.

"What's the name of the vocalist?" Laufeyson asked when the song ended and started once again.

"Good old Ronnie James… " Tony woke up of sorts and let out a nostalgic laugh. "Rest in peace, lad."

"He died?" Loki asked, turning his head to dart an inquisitive look.

"Yep. Of cancer."

"You mortals."

Viewing his counterpart intently, Tony sighed. _What is he doing here? Looking for a chat? Trying to make me mad? Trying to kill me? Trying to drink himself off the world?_

Watching the slender finger scratching at the armchair surface, Tony knew at once.

He was lonely. Loki Laufeyson felt abandoned. Stray. Shipwrecked.

After a few bites on his lip, Tony stood up, rounded the table and crouched beside the still, curled up figure. "Ay. Come on." He prompted softly, poking the skinny arm.

"Hm." Squinting, Loki agreed and got to his wobbly feet.

Wrapping one arm around the Trickster's waist, Tony hooked Loki's hand around his neck, and ignoring the purrs, dragged him to the bedroom. There, he let the lean body plump onto the bed face down. Few moments of struggling later, Tony managed to take Loki's boots off. ("Eeeheheee!" was all Loki had to say to that matter.)

Holding the edges of Loki's green-and-black leather robes carefully between his fingertips, Tony searched for some way to take those off, too. He hesitated. "Uh… would you mind if I'll leave those on you?"

"Absolutely." The Trickster replied, sucking in a stray slaver.

"Yeah." Tony sighed. "Then… Maybe…" he muttered, looking for something like a belt or straps, or… "Stop tossing, please." He commanded, climbing onto the bed as well, his own booze-caused headache being replaced by a brand new one. "Cooperate, bad creature!" Tony couldn't help a grin.

"It tickles!" Loki snickered whilst being turned on his back.

Tony froze for a split second at the strange feeling of his skin being caressed by the soft, cold fingers. "You're truly not much of some help, baby." He mumbled then, trying to ignore things happening and focus on his task.

"Maybe you just have to look into the right places." The Trickster murmured quietly, his eyes glittering.

Tony snorted, tilting his head to the side. "Well, I'm – ooh, wait!" He squealed as the searching hands dangerously approached all the _wrong_ places. He quickly got hold of those cold, silken wrists and trying to press them into their owner's chest, he called: "Jarvis? Ja—" He looked back at his unexpected visitor. "By the way! What have you done to my computer, Loki dear?"

His eyes somewhat less twinkling, Loki turned his sight aside. "Told the poor thing a bedtime story."

Tony frowned deeply, waiting.

"That's all." Shrugged Loki.

"Bedtime story?" Tony repeated, confused. "But I don't need it to be asleep. I built it to do its work!"

"Then why don't you wake him up?" letting his hands still linger in Tony's, the Trickster challenged.

"How?"

"And I thought you're the smart-ass here." Loki sighed all but theatrically, wearing a faint smirk. "Undress me and I shall tell you."

Expressionless, Tony stared at his guest, unmoving. Then blinked. "As you wish." He said coldly.

Reaching for a knife in the nightstand, (Yeah, one should be always prepared for all the eventualities…) Tony began his work with a clockmaker's precision. After a few merciless movements, he yanked Loki up in the sitting position and struggling to ignore the warm breath and lips too close to his ear, he went on with his task, ripping off straps of leather. Finally, the thing gave up, and tearing the robes apart Tony released the pale skin underneath it.

Listening to his own quickened breath Tony sat still against Loki, too aware of the arms around his neck. He raised his stare a bit, but not too high to meet the green orbs. Instead, he focused on the parted lips… "You promised something." He prompted hoarsely then.

"Ah, you're really persistent, aren't you, Tony?" Keeping the penetrating stare, Loki asked in his soft, magical voice and trailed a set of fingers around Tony's hairline, pushing a stray tress back. "But see, I have told you already, you know?"

"What? That I should wake him?" Tony retorted, not backing off this time.

"Precisely, Anthony. You're so quick-witted." Loki purred in response, not attempting to make a next step. Quite the opposite, he withdrew a little. And he seemingly enjoyed Tony's mindless, almost longing, following move forward.

Tony blinked again as Loki Laufeyson pulled away completely. Then the latter, smirking contentedly, propped himself on his long arms. What was all that about? Was Loki making a fool of him all the time? As always?

"Wake him up, you say. Well, uh-" Closing one nostril with his thumb, Tony dropped his stare. Then he let out a bitter snort. "Yeah, whatever." He spat and jumped to his feet, then spotted and grabbed his cell phone.

"Okay. So… Let's begin with this-" he said and started his morning (or whichever part of the day) alarm. Nothing.

"Der. Maybe too up-to-date, right? Perhaps we should try something more… Old-school." Tony muttered under his breath, and shot Loki a glance. The latter seemed perfectly fine and entertained.

"Why not." Loki said, sprawling his limbs on the huge bed. "Your home, your mobile, your Jarvis."

"Wow. What a progress. Here we go-" said Tony and tried the most vintage alarm sound he could find. Still with no effect, though.

"Hey. What's – What do you immortals use to wake you up in that freaky realm of yours? Roaring trolls? Army of dwarves with tiny hammers and anvils?"

Twirling his lips up, Loki nearly laughed. "Nothing of that sort. It's something very simple. Very simple. And you know it. Come on, Tony dear."

Tony stopped in thought. Half to think over the subject, half to marvel at the amazing detoxification rate Mr. Laufeyson's body was capable of.

"Something simple." He muttered, tapping at his lips with the cellphone.

"Yes. I'll give another hint, but this is really the last one - " Loki said, his voice harboring clear disappointment. "Apart from waking the world, I often turn with the wind. What am I?" giving accent to each word as if talking to a small child, Loki lifted his eyebrows in expectation. "Oh, Stark, come on!" he frowned then. "It's more obvious than the sun in the broad daylight!"

"Hey! Just be patient with me. You've been not the only one drinking tonight… Uh-" Replied Tony, buying him some time. He went through the lists in the phone, searching, searching, and then-

"Oh. Here it is." He beamed and played a rooster's crow.

And the whole space beamed with red lights and roared with alarm.

"_We have an intruder, sir._" A familiar, computer voice sounded.

"No no no no no! Stop it, Jarvis, for everyone's sake!" Tony howled, shrinking and covering his ears.

Silence.

"Great." Tony huffed and turned wildly to the bed. However, there really was no one to glare meaningfully at, no one to yell at, no one to jump on in a frantic manner and to shake the dear life off, no one to observe with sheer confusion, no one to laugh and continue the weird chat with, no one to accompany and give at least a temporary comfort to, no one to… Yeah, whatever.

A panting someone broke into the room. "Tony? What's the matter?"

Still staring at the abandoned spot on the bed, not turning around to look at Steve, Tony breathed.

"Just… A tiny issue with Jarvis. Never mind. Go and rest, buddy." Sighing, Tony glanced over his shoulder at least. "Unless you want to tell me a bedtime story."

Quiet hiss and then the door closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**II. Blood of heroes**

_Ladies and gents, we're still alive  
By the skin of our teeth, now it's killing time  
Fasten up your head belts,  
Time to ride the skies  
It's time to be immortal, 'cause heroes never die_

_(Megadeth; Blood of Heroes)_

* * *

Tony let out a jagged, painful breath as the helmet cracked open. He winced, teeth gritted firmly, while scraping the distorted gauntlet off his bleeding hand. "Gzzhh."

Yes, no doubt that Victor was extremely inventive fellow. Not only he managed to take Iron Man's suit almost effectively out of operation, in addition he made Tony make noises he had no idea his vocal chords were capable of.

"_Arc reactor at 12%"_ Jarvis' voice filtered somehow through the crackling white noise.

_Yeah, dude, I know._ Tony thought, too aware of the searing pain and pressure in his chest. And urgent was closing in to unbearable. His eyelids fluttering in the whirling dust, Tony looked around the space he fell in. Abandoned building somewhere in the heart of the New York City. Abandoned, yes. The debris spread everywhere, shattered walls with cables sticking out and twirling like thin, ugly worms. He did not see much, though, since the distant street lights were the only coming in. A rather suspicious noise broke into the room and another portion of dust and falling debris sprayed the crazed floor.

"How long it will last? This – this – building." Tony creaked finding it harder to breathe each second.

"_The wall…leaning against…three minutes…"_ Jarvis indicated in a disturbingly disjointed manner.

"Oh." Tony breathed. "Time to say good bye, then." Wincing again, he straightened in his current sitting position. The cries and crashes coming from the outside transformed into an indifferent, homogeneous flow long ago. But in this very moment something like a missile hiss cut the still air. It came from above and broke through several levels before flattening on the floor few feet away from Tony's stiff form. He could not tell what it was since the thing was thoroughly covered in debris. At first it appeared motionless, but then it curled up and choked. Shining crimson shower squirted out the thing's mouth and mingled with the settling dust, splattering the ground with blood beads.

The body twitched with spasm, rolled back and forth, then uncurled again. Raven hair strands were stuck all around the pale face. Strap of green glinted through the dust layer.

Clearly, lying and trembling on the floor was no one else than Mr. Laufeyson.

Odd.

And there was another rather odd and not so often witnessed phenomenon. Loki's infamous staff was no longer in the most dangerous place in the world – that means his hands, of course, but somewhere else entirely. It had been plunged through his stomach. And whoever did this must have been very conscientious.

"Having a bad day, too?" Tony called into the dark, regretting it at once. Another cough and shower of blood came in reply.

"Kays'." Tony coughed back. "Bad news though. This place is going to fall. I'll be making tracks, what about you?"

A low, faltering whine came in response.

"I see." Murmured Tony and looked outside the collapsed wall at the building across the street. The windows there were broken. _I shall be able to make it at least there_, Tony mused quickly through the roaring, final howl of the levels above. And without a second thought he punched himself off the ground, grabbed the curled up Bundle of Mischief and bounced towards the other house.

They landed a level lower than Tony originally intended, rolling over one another and finally crashing into the distant wall.

"Hn." Tony huffed and wincing, pushed himself upwards. After the black splotches that had been blocking his view disappeared he turned his head wildly to check on his cargo.

Loki lay beside him, eyes squeezed shut. The dark pool that was slowly forming underneath them indicated nothing good.

"Hey… " Tony's voice faltered and trailed off.

No, there was nothing. Even the backups of the backups were pumped out and depleted. The usual, familiar, warm and reassuring glow in his chest weakened, flickered and started to fade away. _This is it?_ Tony asked himself, and his head banged against the wall behind him at the sudden flood of pain that erupted in his chest. His eyes widened; searching, pleading. He had been careless most of the time; the fact that this moment would come inevitably one day pushed and crammed somewhere in the darkest corners of his mind. But now he knew. He was about to leave.

It hurt. It really hurt, but well, on the other hand, soon it would be over and then, there would be no pain anymore. Wasn't that a great prospect? He was tired anyway. Tired of playing superhero along with all the other splendid, high-principled, upright people. He was tired of thinking; he was tired of coping with himself, with his past, with… with… _No, this can't be, I can't… Just not now. I promised… I remember…_

"Fish." He croaked. _Now, Anthony Stark, do you really want 'fish' to be your last word?_ He managed to scold himself and let out a bitterly amused chuckle.

"I – no. Pepper. She was talkin' 'bout… she said she wanted a fish bowl with those small little creatures. To have a silent company…" He explained. "My last word… can't be _fish_." He stopped, frowning.

But it was. Again. "Shit." _Well, this was quite a frequent last word. _

_No, you need something more… more…_

"You're quite eloquent bastard. Any idea?" Tony asked, choking finally. _So this is it. 'Any idea'. These are the last words. How ironic._ He realized as the world around him stilled and his lungs refused to fill themselves with air anymore. And he felt alone. Terribly, unspeakably alone. Gathering the last bit of energy, he moved his hand and found Loki's head. He ran the blood soaked fingers through the dirty mass of the raven hair and clutched as the shrapnel finally found its way in his heart. The lights went dark and everything was engulfed in silence.

* * *

_No, I had no idea._

* * *

Warmth. Wamrth everywhere. Quiet. Then hiss. Wetness on his face. Immense, irritating pressure in his chest. Dark. Flash. Sharp lights.

Tony's eyes snapped open. He propped himself on his arms and squinted. And one slender hand fell limply from his chest. The arc reactor shone brighter than ever before. His armor was warm. No, hot. It felt like melting. Several parts of the suit vibrated.

"_System overload… Fixing…"_ Jarvis's sprang into life once more. _What?_

He looked down. One green orb was fixated on him.

"You?" Tony breathed, perplexed.

"Stark?" familiar female voice cracked from the transmitter and cut through the silence. "Are you alive?"

"I suppose yes."

"Calm down and hang in there. We're coming for you."

"Yeah, yeah." He nodded, furrowing his brows at the creature in his lap. The pupil that was observing him suddenly unfocused as the well-known glint had been replaced with sheer blankness.

"Ay! Tasha, do you hear me?" Tony called.

"Are you injured?"

"I'm pretty fine but this fellow here seems to have a serious problem."

"Which fellow?"

"Come get us." He commanded while watching the lifeless green orb turning crimson red, the skin dark shade of blue.


	3. Chapter 3

**III. Stillness  
**

_Can you see me, are you near me?  
Can you hear me crying out for life?  
Can you tell me, where's the glory?  
Ride the days and sail the nights_

_When it's over you'll find the answer  
Running in the whispering rain  
Anno Mundi? Can you wonder!  
Truth or thunder, life or blame_

_(Black Sabbath; Anno Mundi)_

* * *

"To be honest, I'm not completely sure if what we have done can be called a treatment." Bruce sighed, typing something in the process, his face lit by the soft glow of the computer screen.

"Can you specify it?" Tony asked, picking up mindlessly a blue rubber glove.

"Actually, we hardly even managed to pull the staff out of his guts before he went all stiff. I'm afraid we did more damage than good. But he literally turned into a piece of ice; it was very hard to manipulate with him in any way." Bruce explained in a slightly annoyed voice, like he was complaining. "And put that down, please." He added, giving Tony a short, reprimanding glance.

"Mhm." Tony mumbled, tossing the item back onto the desk in front of him.

They were alone in a large lab. Two exit doors were situated at the opposite sides of the strict, futuristically-furnished room. Shelves with laboratory stuff and long tables with white desks carrying all kinds of devices were filling the space of the room effectively. The wall behind them was made of unbreakable glass-material, but nothing could be seen behind it, since the adjacent room was dark. And another thing made of unbreakable glass was situated in the center of the lab.

A large, round, hermetically sealed chamber, where a certain person was currently kept as a patient and prisoner. The beautiful and unique frost drawings on the transparent wall indicated that it was freezing inside. But still, there were areas wide enough to offer a clear view at a lean, almost skinny creature lying inside.

A certain dangerous, now all contorted and stiff, wicked sorcerer. The tiniest of Jotuns. One of the greatest threats this world had ever encountered. The one who, for whatever reason, happened to save Iron Man's life, depleting his own life-force at the same time.

Loki Laufeyson.

The dark-blue color of his bare skin was softened by a thin layer of white frost. Even the red of his eyes, although still visible, had been veiled with this freezing cover. His body was petrified in the position of a work of art of a mad sculptor. He lay on a metal bed, coiled in the same position as when Tasha and the others had finally found them. His knees bent, the left arm curled underneath him, and the right hand extended, appearing to have been resting on something. A pang of unknown kind shot through Tony's insides upon this realization.

Next thing was a thick, black cable that was hanging from the ceiling of the chamber; its other end bent up and pointed at Loki's stomach.

"We were trying to get into the wound somehow, but just removal of the clothes was almost impossible." Bruce's methodical voice broke into the realm of Tony's memories once more. "First I thought of heating him but Thor said it was not a good idea." Bruce coughed and focused on the screen for a moment. "I understood that this is a part of the race's nature." He resumed then.

"What exactly?" Tony darted a questioning look while rounding the nearer end of the long table and coming closer.

"This reaction. Well, Thor tried to explain something about the Frost Giants… And from what I understood, they're not immortal but can prolong their lives to ages by repeatedly entering the suspended animation state. Or, better said, completely frozen state. They can heal themselves like that too, I suppose. I presume it's a part of a reflexive defense mechanism. You know… I mean, sure, if he had the chance he would have healed himself with his, uh… That…" Bruce snapped his fingers, frowning. "…magic." He went on, sounding like wishing to wash his mouth after voicing the word. "But he seemed to have spent it completely. And as a result, his brain had probably launched this 'Frost Giant's survival-protocol'."

"You suppose?" Tony turned to raise a curious eyebrow at his fellow Avenger.

"Yeah. Well, after the removal of the staff, the wound started to immediately fill with ice, until it was effectively sealed up. So in the end, I chose to leave it up to him. The only thing I can do is to help him with keeping the temperature low."

"And how do you actually know he's alive? Is there any progress visible?"

"Oh yes." Bruce nodded vividly and waved for Tony to come closer to the computer screen. After a few clicks a picture appeared. It looked basically like… what the heck was that? It was… a tunnel filled with white jelly?

"It's the wound. One hour after the removal of the staff. It was completely filled with ice at that time. Then – " Bruce explained, shifting the view to another image, "Four hours – can you see the ends of proliferating tissue? Here – and here." He said, glancing quickly at a frowning Tony, pointing at the areas where the clear structure of the ice had been disrupted and replaced by protruding blue filaments.

"Next – five hours. The proliferation is even more significant, and –"

Tony blinked and leaned closer to the picture of the blue filaments, now twirling and branching.

"Eight hours – That's been made a few minutes ago – the filaments coming from the opposite ends had joined and started creating blood-vessel-like structures. I give it a few more hours and the ice will be completely replaced with the tissue. We can actually take a look now, as I was about to take a sample before you came."

"Sample?"

"Yeah, part of this new tissue." Bruce said and stopped for a second at Tony's puzzled expression. "Come on, just a tiny piece. I can't miss this opportunity." He continued, muttering over a set of tiny joysticks connected to the same computer. He pulled at one of them and another two cables lowered from the ceiling of the hermetically sealed box. They stopped in front of Loki's midsection, beside the first one. One of them had a sharp end, while the second had something like a box at its end. The image on the screen changed into a live video.

"So. Here we go…" Bruce murmured softly, in a steady and thoroughly fascinated voice. Viewing the scene intently, Tony realized that the cable with the sharp end was actually a tiny saw. Pulling at the joysticks carefully and precisely, Bruce cut out a small cone of the grown-through ice. Three tiny, mechanical arms emerged from the saw-cable end and pulled the mass out.

"Can he possibly feel it?" Tony uttered at once, looking into the numb, red orbs. "I mean – what if he actually sees us?"

"Uh – " Bruce gave an insecure smile. "Well, he's in a deep coma, so he shouldn't be able to sense anything, right? He has no idea what's happening to him." Pause. "I suppose." Conclusion came as the tissue sample had been carefully placed into the box with liquid nitrogen, Tony guessed from the vapors that crept over the edge and down.

"And next time you have something to say to the matter, please do that _prior_ to the doubted action, or keep your mouth shut until it's done, okay?" Bruce added when he made the cables go up.

"Yeah, sorry, it just came into my mind, that – " Tony sighed in apology. "What exactly are you going to do with it?"

"What…"Bruce shrugged, pursing his lips. "I'll try cultivating the tissue, although I'm pretty lost at how. I prepared some variants of the common media, but… I guess I should let it freeze after inoculation? Who knows." His eyebrows went up as he raised his hands palms-up. "Yeah, and hopefully the RNA isolation, reverse transcription, RT PCR,… Usual stuff, I'd say."

"Yeah." Tony snorted a sarcastic, matter-of-course laugh. He felt rather uncomfortable with the terms he was not completely familiar with. "However, the question is – does he have anything like RNA?"

Bruce stopped and turned to give Tony an outraged glare. "Are you kidding me now?"

"Well." Tony puffed, waving his hands, "He's an alien."

"Yes, it has not escaped my notice, thank you." Bruce's sarcastic reply was voiced in an annoyed fashion. "But he's a living being, too. He feeds himself as we do, needs the same nutrients as we do, so hopefully his biochemistry is based on the same building blocks as ours." He went on, bending forward just slightly.

"Okay, buddy. Calm down, no need to get… Irritated." Tony backed off, arching one brow suspiciously. "Let's just hope he'll be all right with being your toy."

"What? This is not a play, this is science!" Bruce exclaimed. "And as a scientist, dear Anthony, you surely know that our kind is happy when we know that our research is going to be useful and/or it has never been done before. And this, good sir, is both. So please, don't try to disturb me, since I'm currently in a scientist's heaven." He explained, his voice calming as he walked towards the chamber, where a casket opened itself and a few streams of vapor sneaked out. "Paper in _Cell_, come to papa." He purred as he held the box with the sample.

"You intend to publish it?" Tony asked, coming closer to the chamber wall and touching its surface. No cold on the outer side. "Do you think SHIELD lets you?"

"I fear they have no choice. Avenging stuff is not my vocation job. I'm a scientist first. That was my condition." Bruce stated matter-of-factly, taking the box to the desk.

"Ha." Said Tony, rooted in his spot, trailing the frost-lines.

"What was yours?" Bruce peeked over his shoulder.

"Maybe later." Tony muttered, looking unwarily into the chamber. At him. Lifeless and still. Like the quiet before the storm. The veiled, empty eyes were unavoidable. He felt like being dragged by their numbness, it was pulling him inside.

"Stark?" Bruce called over his shoulder once again.

"What?" Tony uttered, not looking away.

"What actually happened?"

"I wish I could tell." Tony sighed in reply, dropping his sight finally. "What will happen when the wound heals?" he asked carefully, a sort of anticipation flowing through his tone.

"I wish I could tell…" a simple answer mingled with the burbling and hiss of the liquid nitrogen.

* * *

_I hope you're comfortable with Bruce being interested in biology and biochemistry. I am :)_

_Reviews, pretty please!  
_


	4. Chapter 4

I own nothing.

* * *

**IV. Take me as I am**

_Slow down,  
You're thinking too much  
Where is your soul?  
You cannot touch_

_The way I_

_Play  
Or tell me what to say  
You're in the way  
Of all that I believe in…_

* * *

Tony coughed as he made his way through the lab doors, flinging them open and smashing in like a nervous beast. The artificial lights flickered and shone in his eyes, illuminating the almost forgotten corners of his face in a disturbing way. He walked past Bruce, who was currently bending over a 96-well plate, transferring what looked like nothing into the tiny openings with a micropipette.

Checking a printed table beside the plate too intently to pay any attention to Tony, Bruce moved his dry lips slowly. Then he counted the wells in a row, nodded to himself in a reassuring way and continued his minimalistic work. Tony could have sworn he saw a droplet of sweat on his teammate's temple.

"He did it again." Stark pointed out, perhaps a bit quieter than he originally intended.

Bruce let the pipette hang in the air for a second and breathed. Then cleared his throat and continued.

Tony decided to linger in those few moments of silence and just watch the nearly non-existent amounts of liquid being transferred by a trembling hand…

"Could you believe it, he tried – "

"Oh, fuck this shit! Stark, I'm working!" Bruce barked after moving the plate quickly aside. This time Tony could have sworn something greenish passed Dr. Banner's face.

"Yes I know, and it's making me nervous." Tony made a face.

"You?"

"Yeah. It looks like you're…" Tony gestured helplessly, "…doing nothing! Yet you're doing it with such a…"

"I have to concentrate to not to lose the track! And that, dear Tony, is exactly what happened. Because of your whining I'm not sure where I ended, so the rest of the row is just screwed. Do us both a favor and go and pity yourself someplace more suitable." Bruce explained heatedly while taking off the rubber gloves.

"Yeah, whatever." Tony waved his hand, ignoring the complaints. "Or better - do _yourself_ a favor and tell me how exactly do you want to complete this without a failure? It's statistically impossible."

Bruce tilted his head back and closed his eyes firmly before taking his glasses off. "Then build me a robot and make me happy." He murmured and pressed a forefinger and a thumb against his eyelids.

"Mhm." Tony nodded. "I'll think about that." he said, the corner of his eye glinting with mischief. "First, the dedication:" he went on, narrowing his eyes to focus at his future vision, "For an ungrateful friend and a though scientist. Bent over a thingy all day, devoted to the problem to the core, alone in the silent stillness and perfect boredom…"

"Shut up." Bruce pushed his friend, making him sway to the side, before letting a shadow of a smile into his features. "And I'm pleased to say you're utterly wrong. We managed two Potter-movies and one Bach-compilation today." He added, organizing the things and papers on the desk rather mindlessly.

"We?" Tony frowned in slight confusion. "Who's 'we'?"

"Jealous?" Bruce chirped, flashing Tony a little, roguish smile.

"Of course!" Stated the one in question, straightening and folding his arms in front of him. "Look at you, just three days on your own and you've already gotten yourself someone else to hang out with!" Tony reprimanded, staring Bruce up and down.

"Well. I'd rather be careful about the 'hang out' part, but… Let's say it's started to be more fun just recently. Sometimes."

"You mean – " Tony uttered and trailed away, jerking his head in the sealed chamber's direction.

"Ah yeah."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Tony squeaked and turned fully to have a look himself. The light inside the chamber had been dimmed; most likely not to disturb the peaceful slumber of the person inside.

"Weren't you busy enough?" asked Bruce, walking towards the chamber.

"Not that busy…" murmured Tony, approaching the round wall as well. He stood right in front of the glassy surface and looked inside.

Loki.

Back in his usual form, wearing a simple white tunic. His face still, the intriguing eyes hidden behind the ashen curtain of long-lashed eyelids. He was lying on his back, raven-haired head tilted to the side. His skin was ridiculously pale, giving the impression that if one had merely touched it, it would have fall apart. Blue-gray circles stood up below his eyes, and slightly violet splotches decorated the skinny neck and arms.

Tony just stood there and watched. He still could not fathom it all. And the strange, crawling sensation in his chest was there again.

"Potter-movies? Did Fury approve of that?" He spoke finally.

Bruce, standing with his arms crossed, shrugged. "Well, that's Fury's problem. I watch what I want."

Tony snorted, amused, but said nothing. He glanced at the wide, white straps, stretched across Loki's still form. One over his shins, one over the loin, one slightly above the midsection, binding the hands to his torso, and finally, one over the shoulders. Another bandages had been wrapped around the long fingers, holding them tightly together.

"What are these?" Tony asked quietly, pointing with his chin.

"If you're going to stay long enough, you'll see." Replied Bruce, then turned and walked back to the desk. Tony stared a while longer, then turned as well and leaned back against the glass surface behind him. He opened his mouth to resume their talk, but seeing his friend consumed by the complex task made Tony think twice. In the end, he just observed.

When the effortful work was done, Bruce placed the small plate in the centrifuge for a few seconds, and then to a rather space-consuming machine. A furrowed glance at the computer screen, few clicks of the mouse, and a heavy, long sigh followed.

"And what exactly brought you to the thought that Fury would have not approved of the HP films?"

"Well I guess he would give us something like: 'The last damn thing we need is for the damn Trickster to learn new shit'."

"New shit?"

"Yeah. You know…" said Tony and stopped at a strange sensation flashing through his body. "Voldy and stuff…"

"Don't be silly, Stark." A too familiar voice broke in. "How could I possibly get inspired by this pathetic creature? Surviving as a mere wreck, he allowed others to take his life bit by bit without the need to even approach him. How foolish." His usually silken tone, now slightly rasping, sounded through the speaker-system.

Tony stiffened at first; then yanked forwards and very slowly, he turned. Stopping half-way, he risked a glance inside the round chamber.

"Hey… Buddy." Loki rasped again, something unpredictable twitching his lips.

"Why hello there… Lo." Greeted Tony in response, his voice just minutely uncertain.

"Lo?" The trickster asked, not trying to hide the annoyance. Then he turned his head up, his eyelids sliding shut again. "Has my trial already begun, Dr. Banner?" Loki continued in a louder tone. "I must admit you mortals have quite effective torture techniques."

Bruce, now reviewing some older data, snorted a quiet laugh. "Let's say some of my Earthling fellows are very inventive when it comes to that."

"That's right." Tony smiled and drummed his fingers at the glass. "Challenging, isn't it?"

"I think I'll yield this time." Loki sighed, opening his weary eyes, but not turning his sight to Tony.

"Come on. This is not the Loki I know."

For some reason unbeknownst to Tony, the Liesmith smiled faintly. "Isn't it just strange… For an Earthling to claim to know me."

"Actually, you're right." Tony stated mindlessly, tapping at the glass at several different places."I _thought_ I knew you."

He was not sure whether he wanted to hear a 'But?'. But he expected it nevertheless. The silence was the only answer, though. Pursing his lips, Tony tapped on the wall once again.

Loki sighed nervously. "But?" he spat, shaking his head just lightly in disbelief.

Tony shrugged. "Dunno. One would expect you to be a big fan of the One-who-must-not-be-named, for instance?"

"Because I'm evil?"

"You act like that."

"Oh I see. Was…" Loki wanted to ask but never have gotten to voice the words. Instead, his jaw dropped, then clenched with a sheer force. His eyes popped out in an unpleasantly surprised manner as his body arched like a bow.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Bruce exclaimed, jumping from his seat. "Jarvis, tighten the bandages!"

"_Done, sir."_ The artificial voice answered.

A desperate, awful sound made its way through Loki's sore vocal chords, and his bandaged fingers dug deeply in his palms as another violent wave of spasm squeezed his weak body.

"See?" Bruce breathed after landing beside his petrified friend.

"Why?" asked Tony, watching the thin forearms struggle against the bands, his breath slightly uneven.

"I presume these are the after-effects of the frozen stage. He said he had never experienced it before, so… I guess his body has yet to learn how to cope with it." Bruce explained, checking his watch. "It should end at any moment, though."

* * *

"So let me put this straight." Nick stated firmly, pacing before the sealed chamber, his hands joined at his back. "You want me to release you just because you claim to, eh, _help us_ with bringing Victor von Doom down?" He came to a halt, and straightening, he dug his eye into the unfathomably smiling Trickster. "Do you _sometimes_ listen to yourself?"

"Sometimes, yes." Loki widened his smile as he let the words roll on his tongue. Now dressed in a plain white shirt and black sweatpants, he stopped his slow walk around his precious chamber and viewed all the people outside.

Nick, Coulson, Barton, Romanov, Banner, Captain and a split second more had been reserved for Tony. The atmosphere was tense enough to slice it, but it seemed perfectly all right inside Loki's comfortable dwelling. (Judged from the latter's relaxed attitude and overall cheerful mood.)

"All right." Loki sighed lengthily, and sat cross-legged down on the floor. "Now, let me put _this_ straight." He said softly and paused, exchanging an intense stare with Fury. Then he shook his head, checking on the fingernails.

"Have you ever been wondering why do you lose so tragically all the time?" He began, darting a quick look around the room outside his kingdom of glass. "Well, it is quite simple." He resumed. "The enemies you face are no regular people. They obey no rules; they are ready to do and to sacrifice anything at any time. They don't question their purpose. They just do what they want. Which…" one sharp, meaningful glance more, "You do not. You can't. Because you claim yourselves good. And just. The heroes." He said, almost seething the last word. "But playing at heroes means you are limited and everyone knows it. And most importantly, _they_ know it."

"So, what do you suggest? A little killing spree for the beginning?" Steve snorted, full of unexpected sarcasm and disdain.

"Interesting of you, Captain Rogers. However, it is rather not the point here, is it?" Loki snorted back. "Your key…" a short pause to bend forward a bit, "…is to be a step ahead."

"And I presume the one who should provide it is you?" agent Coulson stepped forward, his expression blank as he displayed his usual, perfect poker face.

"Behold the cunning one!" exclaimed Loki, extending his arm in the agent's direction.

"However, it is no easy task and it'll cost you a sacrifice." He stated calmly, keeping the eye contact with as many people as possible. "As you might have noticed, Victor and I happened to have a… little quarrel. They won't accept me, until-"

"You kill a Dumbledore." Bruce murmured.

"I couldn't have thought of better words, Dr. Banner." Loki smiled in appreciation.

"Wait, this is madness!" Natasha broke in.

"It doesn't have to be a kill. But it certainly has to be something very valuable. I believe you had enough opportunities to learn about Victor's and Amora's desires. Think it over and let me know. Then we can move to the next step." Loki declared and stood up.

"I don't believe we've made any sort of deal yet, Mr. Laufeyson." Agent Coulson pointed out with a faint smile.

"Oh, that is right, Mr. _Coulson_. But see, I don't believe you were given a choice." He explained, flashing a wide, somewhat terrifying grin before opening his mouth to speak again. "I'll contact you soon." His words sounded form every corner of the lab as his image blurred and vanished.

"My ass." Clint, the first one to wake up, chuckled. "He's fucking gone."

* * *

_To those who understand, I extend my hand  
To the doubtful I demand, take me as I am_

_Not under your command, I know where I stand  
I won't change to fix your plan, take me as I am_

_(Dream Theater; As I Am)_


End file.
